Saving Us: Alternate
by Vyrian D
Summary: Alternate timeline/world to Saving Us (check my profile for link). Victuuri. After the bus accident, Yuuri found himself switched to a parallel world. Musician!Yuuri.
1. Bleeding

**Disclaimer:** Well, I'm back with this again. No, the characters don't belong to me. I own the plot though.

 **A/N:** Happy New Year! I hope last year was a good year, but this year will be a better one for all of us!

I'm back again with Saving Us: Alternate, as I promised! It takes a bit too long because I need to plan the timeline and plot. I also have to redo three times this time lol. I can't get the result I wanted. Anyyyywayyyy, enjoy this chapter.

 **Beta reader:** MysteryPT

* * *

25th of December, that day is my birthday, but also a day I would always remember. Crisp winter air blew snow into my face like a sudden ice shower. My nose was red from cold, and my eyes red and dry. I remembered scowling into my scarf, the frigidity set my teeth chattering loudly. It was supposed to be a bad day.

I _was_ having a bad day. People all around pressured me to make something for them. I didn't want to. I just wanted to lie on my bed, sighing into Makkachin's fur, sharing his warmth under the thick blanket. I'd let the heater on and slept it off. I didn't want to wake up. I just wanted to fall into sleep where I could dream again.

I didn't.

I couldn't.

Obligation pushed me to move. Fear pushed me to walk out of my front door. My love for my Godfather led me to the street where the town was painted white. I could hear the crunching sound of my boots making holes into the thick blanket of snow. The world was muted by white, but it didn't stop the noise from invading my head. My hands were clenched, hoping the heater packs would chase the pain away. They didn't.

I hated that day.

But I hated it no more.

I didn't think it was possible to fall in love with someone just from his eyes. I didn't even think I was capable of loving someone. But I think I just did. That day, I fell in love.

* * *

25th of December, that day is _his_ birthday; A day I would always remember. I had been dreaming for so long, I didn't know which was dream and reality anymore. Darkness was my friend. Muteness was my world. I didn't know what hope was, for despair was my constant companion. I had always been watching myself struggling in my own dream. Thorny vines tied my feet, dragging me down deeper into a boundless void. I was broken.

Monochrome. That was how I saw the world. Red, it was the only color besides. Not a good color. Blood. Lots of blood. I hated it, because it made me ask myself: "Am I dying?"

I'd walk away, finding some place dark, sitting with my head buried in my arms alone in nowhere, knowing no one would come to help me. I knew my tears had run dry.

I hated those dreams. Always.

But I'd learned to embrace the pain.

I didn't think it was possible for me to be saved. I didn't think I could hope again. But I think I just did. December 25, on that day, I found back my light. That day, I fell in love.

* * *

 **December 16 [Evening], Detroit.**

"Victor, good job. I'd expected no less from the genius director. I'm sure this movie would be another hit, huh?"

I flashed a smile that didn't really reach my eyes at Sara Crispino, one of the actress playing in the movie I directed. She was still wearing medieval-age costume that revealed a bit too much of her skin. Not that she minded them, as she was always proudly flaunting her assets.

"Good job, Sara." I replied curtly, mentally hoping she'd gotten the clue and leave me alone.

I wasn't in the mood to make small talks. The scenes to the movie were all taken. With it done, I could direct the rest from home, the only place I felt the most comfortable in. I wanted to slip under the blanket with Makkachin so much, but I couldn't. I promised Yakov, my coach who was also someone I regarded as a father-figure, to dine with him. I'd been avoiding him a lot these days because he insisted that I needed a… _more permanent_ partner. I was in a very bad mood, just thinking of another long talk he'd have given me.

Don't get me wrong. I love Yakov very much. I simply didn't like it when he pushed me to a relationship I didn't want to have. As I produced more movies, earned more trophies, the more people would come flocking to me. They were poisonous bees to a flower, attracted more to my finance or social network than the real me.

I had to put on thick masks every time, and that exhausted me. I needed to recharge myself at home. There, I had a partner - more loyal than humans - waiting for me. I'd hug and kiss him, and I'd feel whole again. Well, mostly.

My mind growled in annoyance when Sara pushed in, trespassing my personal boundary and pressed her chest to my arm.

 _'Hold it in. Rein yourself.'_ I chided myself, putting on another fake smile. I pulled my arm from her grip, then pushed her away gently.

"Sara, I have an appointment with Yakov. I need to leave now. See you later." I kissed her cheek lightly, slightly disgusted when I saw her blush like a maiden.

Waving the staff goodbye, I walked fast to the parking lot, avoiding most people who'd wanted to grab my attention. Actually, all of them looked my way when I passed through. I knew what they wanted, but I wasn't about to give them that satisfaction.

Nodding shortly to general direction of the people, I quickly escaped the place and finally reaching the basement. I parked my car there, and thankfully no one was around at this time. I fished out the key, and unlocked the door. The stylish silver sport car gave a short alarm, notifying me that the door had been unlocked.

I threw in my wallet and phones on the seat beside me and turned on the engine. It gave me a lovely purr.

Waiting for the engine to warm up, I checked my phone. I had been ignoring the constant buzz, knowing exactly who was it from.

Pressing the power button, the phone's LED lit up, showing me 10 text messages. I unlocked the screen and opened the application. The messages were sent from one person. I sighed, rubbing the bridge of my nose. Talking about bad case of stalker, JJ was being a pain again.

I turned the screen off again and pulled down the hand brake. With the slightest step on the gas, I steered the car out from the parking lot and into the open space. The snow had stopped falling, finally!

9 days to Christmas, a lot of people began to crowd the street, looking for presents and planning for parties. I wasn't much of a party lover. Well, I didn't really mind going to one, but I couldn't say I was particularly eager either. It was more of an obligation than anything. Besides, the only party I'd willingly attend was Yakov's or Nikolai Plisetsky's. The two weren't part of the fame-hyenas.

I lowered down the speed, being extra careful not to cause an accident. I'd never hear the end of it if Yakov found out I hit someone on the way to his house. Thankfully, his house was nearby.

Pulling over, I parked the car in front of his house. Yakov lived in a housing complex with big enough lawn for parking, but the old man loved his garden too much. I wouldn't want to ruin his carefully cared grass blanket and had him chew my ears off. It was easier to run away too if I simply parked outside.

I got out of the car and locked it with the small remote chained to the key. Then, I walked over the intercom and waited for him to open the door. From the small, white machine, I heard shuffling of feet and a familiar grunt. I smiled, knowing Yakov's habits. He always grunted when he saw me.

"Vitya! Took you long enough!"

The automatic iron gate slided open for me. I walked in, greeting Yakov with a peck to his left cheek. The older man wore a long sleeved grey-colored wool sweater I bought him last Christmas.

"I have to finish the scene-taking today, Yakov. You know how it goes," I chuckled lightly and led him into the warmth embrace of the house. Despite the thick coat I wore, the cold still managed to pierce into my bones, sending my teeth chattering.

"You and your stupid movies," Yakov huffed, shaking his head.

I pulled out my shoes and put it aside, leaving only my socks to walk into the living room. As I made myself comfortable, Yakov brought two empty glasses and a bottle of Vodka. One eyebrow raised up, I clicked my tongue in little annoyance.

"Vodka? Yakov, you're not supposed to drink alcohol!"

He put the glasses in front of me and poured us some, ignoring my obvious anger. This man really had no self-awareness. He was always a heavy drinker, and even after fallen victim to stroke a few years before, it didn't really stop the man from ruining himself further.

"I'm drinking just a little." He showed me his glass. It wasn't even quarterly filled.

I sighed in defeat. As stubborn as I could go, Yakov could be my equal in that area, if not worse. But who am I to judge, really, when I'm also ruining myself by overworking my body?

Taking the offered glass, I made a toast gesture and drank a quarter of it in a big gulp. Heat spread instantly, burning my throat but warming my body. I cringed. I didn't really hate the drink, but I hated the taste. It was so bitter. Why didn't Yakov pick the sweet ones…like Baileys.

"Why did you call me here, by the way?" I put down the drink. Though I doubted he'd tell me anything I didn't already know, I'd still listen to my him. Yakov is my Godfather after all.

I waited until he slowly finished the drink. When it was emptied, he moved the glass back to the table. Almost. I waited in confusion as Yakov suddenly froze midway, his glass hovered between the table and floor. Then, without warning, the glass was dropped. It hit the edge of the table with a loud thud, then crashed to the floor.

Eyes widened in alarm, I stood up and run to him, just in time to catch his falling body. I didn't think I noticed a large piece of glass scraped my leg, because a damn scratch didn't mean a thing right now.

* * *

 **December 16 [Midnight], Detroit.**

Minutes passed like hours when you're in distress. That wasn't a common phrase anyone would say to someone like me. They regarded me as a genius and being it meant that I felt no pressure. I was inhumanly capable of doing anything, and incapable of feeling pressure and stress. They really put me on a high pedestal unbefitting a mere human being.

I splashed my face with more water, grateful that the water was frigid enough to keep me awake. I wouldn't forgive myself if I fell asleep while Yakov was fighting for his life. I should've stopped him. I knew he had a bad history with alcoholic beverages. I didn't know it had gone past the boundary of safe and endangered his life.

Guilt clenched my chest painfully. I was fully aware to why Yakov invited me to his house, even to offer a drink. Yakov knew me since childhood and he knew of my weakness. My tongue was very loose when I had a drink and he intended for me to vomit the poisons harming my system.

I drove Yakov to this situation. He knew I was not in a good mental condition.

Suppressing the urge to smash the mirror to pieces, I wiped the excess water away from my face. I looked horrible, I noted. Not my face, I was pretty sure of it. Though there were slight bags under my eyes, they weren't so noticeable. But if someone knew me better, like Yakov, they would see how dead the light in my eyes were.

I'm just so tired of it all. Movie making was becoming boring too. I'd done a lot of unexpected things to earn myself names and more awards, but as expected, I'd running out of the creative juice. I could no longer see the world in like a burst of colors like before. There were no more fireworks of ideas when I observed life.

The pressure from people around me didn't help either.

I sighed, wiping the last drop of water from my cheek. I needed to go back to Yakov. His surgery was ongoing and I would…I must be there when he woke up. I checked my phone again, reading a message from Sara about celebration party for finishing the last scene taking. I turned off my phone exasperatedly. Closing party and hyenas be damned.

* * *

 **December 16 [Evening], Detroit.**

"You have no say in that matter, Yakov." I stared stonily at my Godfather, unwilling to yield. "I'm confiscating all of your alcoholic beverages. I don't care even if stop talking to me. I AM THROWING THEM ALL AWAY!"

Yakov pursed his lips tiredly at me. Damn this senile man. Didn't he understand the complication of drinking those to his body? I thought he had another stroke, but no. Yakov was diagnosed with a heart failure this time. Thank God I was not lacking in the financial department, so I could immediately agree to put in a pacemaker in his old heart.

Though alcohol didn't directly do this to him, it might as well be a significant contributor. The doctor implicitly ordered him not to drink anymore, supporting my opposition.

"You're not allowed to go back home. Be a good boy here and sleep." I sat back on the chair. The anger began to dissipate. "I know why you have it, but I don't want to be the reason for your death."

From the corner of my eyes, I saw Yakov smiled slightly. His eyes dropping shut. I shook my head with a slight tilt to my lips. I'll just have to talk to him again when he's soberer.

* * *

 **December 20 [Morning], Detroit.**

"Vitya."

At the light tug of my sleeve, I looked up from my laptop, then turned to my Godfather. He was frowning. I looked back on my laptop. I knew I'd been working again, but it was light compared to the usual. Assuming it was something else, my eyes returned to him.

"What is it, Yakov?" I pulled out the earphone. "Are you hurting again?"

I put the laptop on the small coffee table beside my chair, then fussed at him. If he was feeling pain, I needed to call the doctor again. There might be chances of infection or device incompatibility, so it was wiser to always be vigilant.

Yakov swatted my hands away. "No. Please switch my room."

I paused in stunned silence. "Excuse me?"

"Switch my room. This place is too huge for a lonely old man like me. Move me to the public room."

As he waved his hands, my eyes roamed around the room too. I had Yakov checked in to the VIP room, so there were quite a few facilities. There was even a fridge even though most patients wouldn't be able to have cold drinks. I assumed they were for the visitors. The walls were painted differently too. Instead of the boring white as it looked in the other rooms, this room was given a lovely light blue.

But again, not that I couldn't understand his reasoning. I'd been avoiding people for too long to remember than most people actually hated being alone.

He had been quite docile since he was hospitalized. I guessed this time I could yield.

"Fine. I'll have them move you tomorrow."

"Today."

I heaved a long suffering sigh. "Fine. Today."

Why did this old man give me more trouble than the brattiest of brats, THE 'Yuri Plisetsky'? I'd like to see them compete in the attitude one day. I was sure the whole world would cheer. It might even be a good movie. Oh, joy.

* * *

 **December 20 [Noon], Detroit.**

When one had money, everything would be much simpler. That was one thing I learned from being a financially capable person. Offer the other party a nice sum of money, and even a scowl changed to a smile. Usually, I'd hated it, but since it could fasten the relocation process, I guessed I was thankful too.

"Yakov, are you sure you want to stay here?" I glanced around the room painted in dull white. There were three other beds, and two were occupied, and that was right beside Yakov's and the one in front of him.

Yakov settled himself on the hard bed, sighing contently. "Yeah. Though you've been coming here a lot, there are just moments when you're not here. They can be my friends."

I looked back to the bed beside Yakov's. It was occupied by a young male with hair as dark as coal. His eyes were closed and his breathing was slow. Sleeping? Or…

"Ah, that young one there hasn't woken up even once since he was admitted. No one really knows who he is."

Approaching the said bed, I noted how his lips were cut and there were a few ugly bruises on his pale arms and neck. Despite the blemish, though, he was a very attractive man. I wondered what color his eyes were.

"Vitya?"

I snapped back, moving away from the man and back to my Russian Godfather. Something about the man tugged at me. "He looked Asian," I commented. Yakov looked at me strange, but I ignored him.

* * *

 **December 25 [Morning], Detroit.**

 _It's so dark…_

 _So cold…_

 _It hurts…_

 _Where am I…?_

It was so bright when I opened my eyes. Bright as in painfully blinding. The sudden intrusive white sent massive pain to both my eyes and head within a second my eyes fluttered open. Blinking a few times, I tried to chase away the white spots. It was annoyingly persistent.

A few more blinking, then my eyes adjusted to the light. Both my head and eyes were still throbbing dully, but it was manageable. I felt like a deep-sea fish suddenly exposed to the sunlight.

I tried to make a sound, but I stopped, cringing in so much pain. There were needles stuck in my throat. I couldn't even try to groan. Every parts of my body protested, not only my throat.

Moving my eyes around, I tried to gather as much information as possible to my whereabouts. If possible, getting an answer to my hazy memories. My brain hadn't rebooted completely, it seemed. It was hard to even start thinking.

With my head as rigid as a statue, I looked from the corner of my eyes. I was greeted with an unfamiliar view. To describe it shortly, this place reeked of disinfectant, and was hauntingly depressing. The whole room was decorated with whites, even the blanket covering the upper half of my body. I stared longer at both of my arms, noticing needles were stuck into my vein, pumping me liquids from the IV drips bag.

I couldn't feel my arms, other than massive pain all around. I couldn't move any of my fingers. What happened?!

I gasped soundlessly as panic began to attack me. Tears fell from the corner of my eyes, and I hyperventilated. My eyes squeezed shut, my lungs reactively tried to get more oxygen, but none supplied. I was close to fainting.

"Vitya!"

"I know. Call the doctor, Yakov!" I felt someone's presence nearby. Warm hands cupped my face, tilting my chin. "Calm down. Breath slowly. You're okay, you're gonna be okay." Who was that? His voice was familiar… A presence that calmed my nerves.

"Breathe…yes, that's good, breathe slowly…" I gasped slower now that my panic attack was under control. I opened my eyes again and slowly turned to find silver hair and…blue eyes…

I stop breathing again.

* * *

Now, we have our favorite couple back! Won't you be the good and caring readers and let me know what you think of it? Reviews & favorites give power to the author! :3


	2. Hidden Feelings

**Disclaimer:** I don't own the characters, only the plot!

 **A/N:** This chapter has figuratively killed my brain. It's so hard to write ._.

 **Beta:** MysteryPT

* * *

 **December 28 [Morning], Detroit.**

 _ **Yakov:**_ _[You like him.]_

Victor stared at his phone, suspecting if he had taken someone's phone by mistake. He flipped it, confirming it was his from the poodle-print phone case. Then…it wasn't from the person he thought it was? Victor rechecked the sender if it was indeed a chat message from Yakov. It was. Reading the message again, he shook his head, confused and bewildered. Yakov was never a man of small talk, but this was _too_ random. Where the hell did that come from?

 _ **Victor:**_ _[Pardon? Who?]_

Not that he didn't know who Yakov was referring to, but that _really_ came out of the blue.

 _ **Yakov:**_ _[Stop pretending. You came to visit so often because of him.]_

The movie director considered for a short moment if this was worth replying. Was this some kind of a test? Nah. Yakov wouldn't do such a tedious thing. If he wanted to know if Victor liked someone, he'd just have to ask. Victor wouldn't deny him the truth. Not that the silver-haired wanted to hide it in the first place.

Yes, he was interested in someone. And that someone was - _accidentally_ \- Yakov's roommate in the hospital. That wasn't the same _like_ as what Yakov was hinting though. Probably. Yep.

Since the first time he saw the raven's earth-colored orbs, Victor's heart had already fluttered in the wildest way. He wanted to try licking them and see if they actually tasted like chocolate.

Damn. He sounded like an old pervert.

 _ **Victor:**_ _[I came to visit you. He just happened to be there. We don't even know his name, Yakov_ (・_・;) _]_

 _ **Yakov:**_ _[I didn't see you worry about it even once. As far as I'm concerned, you actually looked like you want to kidnap the poor man and hide him away.]_

 _ **Victor:**_ _[You're not going to let this go, are you?]_

 _ **Yakov:**_ _[It's been a while since I last saw you this eager to know someone. It's not a bad thing, Vitya.]_

Victor's stomach tightened, annoyance suddenly overtook his mind. True that it had been a while since he last dated, and Yakov was - literally - his only family right now, but that didn't mean he could have a hand in his love life.

Long, deft fingers danced on the small screen again. Who said he hadn't been interested in others?! He had! A lot! There was this guy he knewー

Victor's fingers paused mid-typing, blinking slowly. No one actually appeared in his mind. Eyes lowered, Victor read Yakov's message again, twice for good measure.

When did he last show interest in someone else? Okay, he couldn't think of any. Didn't mean Yakov was right though.

Victor held the backspace of his on-screen keyboard, wiping the whole text. He typed something, then backspaced it again, not really sure what to reply. Damn. Yakov was probably having a field day right now. The silver-haired man sighed and turned off the phone's screen instead.

He would think of something later. For now, he had a 130-minute movie to review. And damn his absentmindedness for missing a laughing couple passing behind the supposedly tear-jerking scene. He'd have to ask the CG team to fix that and put on some effects or the miss would be noticed. Then, there was the sound effect too that didn't really fit into the scene.

Victor heaved another long sigh. Maybe it was a mistake to work today. Going home to an empty apartment was far from appealing, so his next destination was more or less decided. Though, he had to clarify for self-satisfaction; It wasn't due to Yakov's strange message that he felt the sudden urge to meet a certain raven. He had been planning to go to the hospital, albeit much later.

Before Victor changed his mind again, his laptop's lid was pushed down to a shut. He waited the laptop's slight rumbling of machine to completely silent then for just a second. The genius considered texting Yakov again. Well, he'd let the old man wait just a little bit longer. They would meet soon anyway…after he made a quick visit to the florist.

* * *

 **December 28 [Noon], Detroit.**

Yakov had been grinning since morning and that was a very strange sight. Three days into waking up, the raven could mostly guess the kind of person Yakov was. The old man, was, after all, a very straightforward person. Yakov often masked his words with annoyed grunts and scolding, but it was affection which was often showed clearly in his eyes. Especially when he talked to Victor.

Just as usual, he started checking his phone in the morning, scrolling through stuffs the Asian didn't bother to ask. The only difference was that today he started with the usual affectionate-grunts and ended with a wide grin adorning his old face. The Asian was perplexed.

"You look happy."

Yakov tore his gaze away from the phone and to the Asian's brown-colored eyes, smiling. "Thanks to you."

The Asian frowned in confusion. What did he do?

"Never mind," Yakov cut in before the raven managed to ask. "You still can't remember anything?"

Mere three days seemed like a long time ago. The Asian woke up to find a startling combination of blue and silver invading his vision at close range. The moment of ogling would've lasted longer if not for the doctor coming to shatter the spell. And it wouldn't matter so much if the bald-headed man with mean eyes was a nice man. He was far from it. The doctor - whom they called later as 'doctor nasty' as a joke - rambled on and on about the Asian's lack of memories and how his existence was a burden to the hospital.

"The hospital is not a charity organization…" _yadda yadda yadda._

It took a loud yelling from Yakov, mostly about how disappointed he was to the one who's supposed to save lives but spewing such heartless things. The doctor was paling within seconds and fidgeting badly, much to the Asian's amusement. Victor had - probably annoyed as much as Yakov - allowed the show run for a full ten minutes before he finally stepped in and said that he would pay for the amnesiac raven's hospital fees. The doctor let out a loud content sigh and ran away before Yakov could pull another long scolding.

Not that he wasn't thankful, but the raven didn't want to impose a big burden on a stranger's life. Especially knowing his hospital fees must have costed quite a sum that the nasty doctor said such hurtful words. The raven's voice croaked and ended in painful coughs as he tried to question the silver-hair's decision.

Victor allowed the raven two glasses of water for his parched body before the latter could speak properly. He had been sleeping for days without liquid and that pained his throat. When he could finally make sentences, the raven asked, "Are you sure? We're practically strangers…"

"I'm very sure. I can make a good use of my money, after all!"

The smile Victor flashed to him was infectious. It was so easy for the Asian raven to get swept away by it and smiled back. The two introduced themselves, though the Asian had no way to do the same, but the two Russians didn't mind.

Their other roommate was a man older than Yakov. He said it was useless to introduce himself since he wasn't staying for long, the oldest told them to call him grandpa although he was probably only a few years above Yakov. They didn't ask further and did as he wanted. The Asian, though, secretly thought it was sad.

The raven would do anything to have a name right now.

Flashing a sad smile, the raven shook his head. "Nothing at all. Maybe I should make up a name for myself. It's hard to call me with ' _you'_ or ' _hey'_ , right?"

"Not to mention rude," Yakov added with quick nods. "You seem like Asian though. Maybe Asian names will do?"

"I don't mind even if you call me Bob right now."

Yakov chuckled. "It doesn't suit you at all."

"I know. But any name will do."

"Angel, then."

The door slid open all of a sudden, and a very attractive silver-haired man walked in, drawing eyes to him like a sudden sun. In his hand was a bouquet of small and colorful flowers. He flashed a wide grin at the Asian, but the same grin dropped into a slight pout when his eyes met Yakov's. A staring contest started between the two. Though the raven instinctively believe it probably had something to do with him, he was too afraid to ask.

"Definitely not Angel! Are those lilies?" the raven tried to break the silent war, and at the same time, switching the topic.

From the slight narrowing of his eyes, it was obvious Victor knew about the raven's intention. Still, he relented. Victor flashed the amnesiac man a grin. The latter blushed. Victor was really cute when he laughed and mouth forming a big heart. A bit childish, but _very_ adorable nonetheless.

"Peruvian lilies! Beauties, aren't they?!" The raven nodded, but instead of smiling back, he actually frowned. Victor's grin dropped. "You don't like lilies?"

"What? No, no! I like them…" the last sentence died off as the raven's frown came back.

"But…?" Victor prompted.

Brown eyes tore away from the rainbow of colors but his nose sniffed at their sweet smell. An idea tugged at the back of his mind, refusing to be ignored.

"Yuri," he said, almost sick with the sudden wild flutter of his heart the moment the word left his mouth. "Yuri is lilies."

* * *

 **January 3rd [Noon], Detroit.**

"Yuri, you missed the old man that much?"

The raven Asian perked up from his daydreaming, meeting the silver-haired Russian's ocean-colored orbs. It still felt a bit strange to know that he had a name right now, especially when it was hastily decided because Yuri told them it meant lilies. Victor thought it was a beautiful name. Yuri _knew_ this wasn't his at all. It didn't feel belong. It felt familiar, yet strange all the way. When Victor announced he'd call the Asian by that name, Yuri wasn't surprised. It'd been very uncomfortable for all of them to call the raven with a 'hey' or 'you' after all.

Yuri shrugged as a reply, unsure. Did he felt sad? Did he miss their other roommate? Yuri couldn't be sure. They hadn't interacted that much to develop attachment.

This morning, their other roommate was discharged. Yuri never managed to learn the old man's name. He asked, but the oldest of the three gave them a sad smile and said that there was no need for them to learn of his name. Being so old, it wouldn't be a surprise if he ended up dead tomorrow. What was the point of learning a man's name just for a day, he said. It was really pitiful. Even if Yuri was going to die today, he'd still want his name to be remembered by someone.

Maybe that was the reason he was so desperate for a name, and happy to be given one.

The mood was a bit gloom, Yuri suspected it was his fault after all. Well, mostly. It was like he was suddenly thrown into a lake with freezing water in the middle of winter. With the old man leaving, Yuri realized it would be sooner or later that Yakov and Victor would leave too. He would be alone in this room, desperately hoping someone new would come and ease his loneliness.

"It's a hospital, after all. Everybody would leave someday," he whispered to himself. Yuri didn't know if Victor or Yakov heard of his words, but the room remained dead.

That night, Yuri couldn't sleep.

Victor's laughing face and Yakov's annoyed grunts kept appearing in his mind. Yuri repeatedly blinked, trying to shake the image off. Did he want them – Victor, to be specific - to remember him that much? With nothing special to Yuri, the Asian doubted his existence could barely stay in Victor shortest memory. Victor had a memory akin to a 40-year-old, sadly. He talked to Yuri only because Yuri was Yakov's roommate. Even his help with Yuri's fees was nothing but a coincidence from being in the same room as his Godfather.

As the bleak thought filled his head, Yuri felt tears rolling down his cheeks. Balling to his side and away from Yakov, Yuri pulled the blanket over his head, hiding the sobs. He felt pitiful. To be forgotten was scary, and he felt like a damn coward for fearing it.

* * *

 **January 7rd [Noon], Detroit.**

The dreaded day came so much sooner than he thought. Yuri wasn't sure he was ready for the parting; not sure if he would _ever_ be ready for it. His usual soft gaze was downright cruel as he stared at Yakov's dark green travel bag, hoping fervently the bottom would tear up and spill the content; if it was the only thing that would keep them in his company for a second longer.

"Yuri? We're going now, okay…"

Brown eyes' glare softened as he looked up, meeting ocean blue. Yuri contemplated; how wonderful it would be if all of a sudden Victor was able to read minds. If he could, he'd very much liked Victor to read Yuri's mind right now. The doctor said he could be discharged anytime now, since he healed well. He could just tell them he wanted to go with them. But…he couldn't say that now, could he?

"…mm-hm…" he trailed off, avoiding the two's eyes. He knew they frowned at him for doing so, but Yuri didn't want them to see just how much pain he was in right now.

He heard the door shut with a soft click and Victor's familiar footsteps grew fainter. He waited, focusing his ears to the regular tick-tock sound of the clock, until he was sure no one was near enough. He took his pillow, screaming into it until his throat burned. The pain in his throat didn't distract him from the pain in his chest. It lingered, refusing to go away no matter what Yuri did. Yuri didn't know how to heal it.

* * *

 **January 7rd [Noon], Detroit.**

"Are you sure about this?"

Victor fixed his eyes on the straight road, noticing it was empty but didn't comment on it. He just refused to look at Yakov right at this moment and using driving as a convenient excuse.

"Sure about what?"

He heard Yakov huffed. "Wake me up when we arrive."

It was only then that Victor sneaked a glance at his Godfather. Ever since he was hospitalized, Victor noted how his father grew thinner and smaller every day. It was worrisome, especially now, seeing bags under his eyes and the tiredness that followed. With Victor being busy almost every time, the old man literally didn't have anyone taking care of him. Yakov wasn't a man with many friends, especially with how he always looked like he was annoyed. To see him hit it so well with Yuri was surprising, to be honest.

There was something tugging at him when he thought of the raven. Like he forgot something, except that he didn't. He knew what he wanted from the amnesiac man, but Victor didn't want to acknowledge it. He was doubtful, not at Yuri, but at himself.

Letting out a long sigh, Victor sped up a little bit. He just wanted to take a nap now. His head had been running in circles and that was tiring him out.

* * *

After tucking Yakov in his bed, Victor went back to his flat and quickly packed up a few necessities. He wasn't about to let Yakov stay alone in that house. After his ex-wife left, Yakov often drowned himself in alcohol, and when worse time came, he might even neglect eating. It was worrying. Though Victor wasn't the best at taking care of himself, Yakov was definitely worse. Luckily they had each other. Unluckily, they both sucked at taking care of others.

Pulling up the zipper of his travel bag, Victor pulled out Makkachin's food and plate from the bottom drawer of the kitchen. Victor was really forgetful, but the only thing he would never dare forget about was Makkachin's needs. He could always come back later though, if he indeed missed anything.

"Makkachin, let's go!" The poodle barked happily. Victor kissed his beloved poodle's nose once, laughing when Makkachin licked his chin in response. "Yakov's waiting."

The poodle barked again and they left the flat in darkness.

Victor came back to the darkness of Yakov's house. He shushed Makkachin and went to Yakov's room. The old man snored in deep sleep. When he didn't scowl or grunt, Yakov actually looked very kind. Harsh lines smoothed out as he nuzzled and sighed contently into his pillow. Victor chuckled.

"Yakov," he shook the old man lightly. "Yakov, wake up. Have dinner first. You have to eat your meds."

Yakov snuggled deeper into his pillow, groaning then swatting Victor's hand aside. "I'm awake. Took you long enough."

"Sorry. I went to buy dinner."

Victor helped his Godfather walked out to the living room. Makkachin had made herself home on Yakov's dark brown leather sofa, snoring in light sleep. The moment she saw Victor reappear, she barked and jumped down to approach her owner. The poodle sniffed at Yakov a few times, barking and wagging her tail. She had met Yakov a lot of times, so she still remembered him.

"Makkachin, no jumping on the old man, okay!" She barked twice and Victor smiled at her clever dog. "Stay there. I'll fix your dinner as well."

The first half of their dinner went on in silence. The clinking sound of metals against ceramics plate was filling their ears. Halfway into digging into their foods, Yakov broke the silence.

"You like Yuri."

Victor's hands stopped moving. "He's likeable." He forced his clamming hands to move again, hoping his neutral answer would satisfy Yakov and force him to drop the topic. He knew it was a futile effort though. Not when Yakov looked menacingly at him.

"You're lying to yourself again, Vitya. Why?"

"Yes, I like him as a person, Yakov. He's sweet and all, but in the end, he's just a stranger to us, no?"

Annoyed, Yakov slammed down his spoon and fork. "Bullshit. You know you like him more than just an acquaintance or a friend. Stop denying your feeling. You want him, don't you?"

Did he? Victor wasn't sure. After his family's death, and along with his growing success, Victor couldn't bring himself to love another; Yakov being the sole exception. He knew it was cowardly of him for he feared loving others only to lose them again. He feared betrayal.

"Vitya," Yakov's tone softened, the one he only reserved when he knew Victor faced the same mental wall again. Yakov was the only person knowing Victor's worst side. "Vitya, stop fearing the worst. You know well every human will die one day. I'm old and sickly. I don't want to die tomorrow only to leave you alone."

Unexpectedly, the words hit him so hard that tears fell. He didn't intend to cry. It just…fell.

"Don't…don't say that," Victor's voice quivered. "You're the only one I have now."

"Vitya, I won't be the only one if only you would try opening yourself more. Did you know why Yuri evaded us earlier before we parted?"

Victor didn't hide his hands when he wiped the tears away. Yakov had seen it enough to understand his pent up stress. And discussing family matter and death was some sort of taboo for Victor. It made him cry like a child again. That was why he would never discuss it in public. But Yakov would always be an exception.

"He was on verge of crying, Victor. Have you ever – even just once - truly looked into his eyes? Have you ever noticed the face he was making when he looked at us?" _Or you, specifically?_ Yakov let the last sentence unsaid. He knew Victor would understand. He didn't need to say it out loud only to hurt his pride. "He is probably still crying right now."

The genius froze. The image of a certain raven crying alone in the bed, hiding himself in the darkness of the room and under the thick blanket that smelled like disinfectant, assaulted Victor. It squeezed his heart hard, making it almost painful to breathe.

"I…but we…"

"Vitya," Yakov cut in. "Save him. Before it's too late for both of you."

Victor had never run so fast in his life. He heard Yakov sighed again but with a small chuckle along with it. Victor slammed the front door shut, it rattled on its hinges.

* * *

"Like I said, I'll take care of him. Just prepare the documents necessary to discharge him. He's well, right?"

The nurse at the front desk stammered. The usual flirty-feely Victor stared down at her hard, forcing her to nod and hastily pull out the papers and pen. "Yes, well… he had bruised ribs, a few healing lacerations and other small bruises, but otherwise, healthy."

Victor mentally commended her composure. At least she managed to tell him this much without faltering.

"Here are the documents you need to fill." Victor looked down at the papers, noticing it was the same ones he had to fill for Yakov. Wordlessly, he picked up the pen and began filling in information. "Here. And I've overpaid his fees. I don't need it returned."

Victor left the front desk with a long stride. He didn't want Yuri to stay any second longer in this piece-of-shit of a hospital.

Victor didn't rely on his memory when navigating the place. His feet knew where to turn, having visited the place so often before. And they had brought Victor to stand in front of one of the boring white sliding door again. From the small glass on the door, Victor noticed the light was turned off. Or was it never turned on since their departure?

He slid it open slowly, not making any noise as Victor slipped in. He was immediately greeted by soft but haunting melody of Yuri's humming. The raven stared at the wall to his right, not really seeing anything. Hell, Victor didn't even know what he would be staring at, with it just a white wall; and in the darkness, not to mention.

Victor announced his arrival by turning on the light. The Russian cringed when Yuri turned his head so fast, clearly surprised.

"Vi-Victor! What are you doing here?!"

Normally, that reaction would have made the silver-haired Russian chuckle. Not tonight. The moment he saw Yuri's puffy eyes and swollen lips, anger coursed wildly in his body. It was a clear sign of the raven crying while biting his lips, probably trying not to make a sound.

With a large stride, he stopped to the side of the raven's bed, towering over him. If his frown wasn't clear enough indication of his anger, Victor didn't know what else was. At least, Yuri knew him well enough to notice the difference.

"Uh…why are you angry?"

Victor pulled up Yuri's right wrist, anger dampened a little, noticing how thin and fragile this beautiful raven was. If Victor left him here, he'd grow even thinner, right? If he pretended not to care about Yuri, the latter would just cry himself dry like today, right? If Victor denied his feeling, they would end up ruining each other, right?

"Why didn't you say anything?" Victor flipped Yuri's hand, pressing a kiss to his palm. It tasted a bit salty. Like tears. "You've been crying. And why are you humming such a sad melody?"

"I'm not…"

"Don't lie, Yuri," Victor cut in, then sat by Yuri's bed, pulling the raven in. "It's clearer than the sky. Why didn't you say anything to us back then?"

He felt Yuri trembled and pushed away. Victor wouldn't let him. He tightened his embrace, burying his nose into Yuri's neck. The raven felt so perfect in his arms, like he was made for Victor. The way he instinctively leaned into Victor made the Russian melt inside.

"What am I supposed to say?" The Asian choked by a sob. "You've done so much for me. I can't possibly impose on you anymore."

Victor frowned to the warm flesh under his lips. What the hell was this guy saying, he thought. Then he remembered thinking about similar things. It wasn't even so long ago that he still denied wanting to see the raven under the pretense that they were literally strangers.

"I want to see you every day, Yuri. I want to have breakfast together with you and Yakov. Don't you want the same?"

He knew Yuri would want that. Yakov was right. Yuri's eyes spoke so much and Victor was a blind man for not noticing it earlier. Even if Yuri said otherwise now, Victor wasn't about to let him go. Victor had doubts. He wasn't even sure if this was a right decision. He knew he'd be devastated if Yuri decided to betray his trust, but Victor was willing to gamble.

"Live with us."

Victor didn't know if Yuri's agreement or the fact that the raven mewled into his chest was his final switch. Rationality was lost to him as he suckled a spot in the raven's collarbone, because he wanted the world to see that this insecure beauty belonged to Victor Nikiforov. He was a possessive bastard after all.

It took them longer than minutes to come back to their senses and parted. But as far as Victor was concerned, he didn't regret taking the first step. Nor did he see Yuri hating him for placing a hickey. He smiled widely again, seeing his mark on the raven's pale skin. It felt good to have someone in his life again.

* * *

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